


Unlucky

by teroinreadsteroinwrites



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-09-01 08:54:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8617711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teroinreadsteroinwrites/pseuds/teroinreadsteroinwrites
Summary: “ I didn’t want to be marked. I thought the whole concept was stupid. When you get near your other half, you suddenly get a mark that represents them at that time. You first get near your soul mate, when you’re five and he’s still playing with bricks, you gotta brick on your arm. Meet your future wife, when she’s in the middle of her emo phase, you got Gerard Way on your thigh.“





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I decided to take a crack at a soulmate AU. Not really sure how I’m feeling about this. This is about the third rewrite and I still don’t really like it, but I don’t want to do it again, so it’s going up.The following is all fake all real names places and events are being used fictitiously. I do not own the WWE or any of their characters and employees. All trademarks and copyrights go to their respective owners.

“I just want it to look more feminine, you know?”

 

I nodded at the woman looking at the calendar, trying to find a place, where I could fit her in.

 

“Well, it’s not gonna be easy. You got one gnarly set of horns there, but it’s not anything that I can’t work with,” I said reaching for a pencil, when I found a couple of hours available on a Tuesday. “I do a lot of tattoos like this.”

 

“What about you?” she asked.

 

“The only marks on my body got there the hard way.”

 

“Oh. I’m sure you’ll get yours one day.” Her words were meant to be reassuring, but I took them as an insult.

 

I didn’t want to be marked. I thought the whole concept was stupid. When you get near your other half, you suddenly get a mark that represents them at that time. You first get near your soul mate, when you’re five and he’s still playing with bricks, you gotta brick on your arm. Meet your future wife, when she’s in the middle of her emo phase, you got fucking Gerard Way on your thigh.

 

It caused more harm than good in my opinion. Some people never found their other half and wasted their entire life looking for that person. Sometimes they passed each other in the street, never to see each other again. Just because you were supposed to be perfectly matched didn’t mean the timing was always right. It didn’t mean that was the only person that you would ever fall in love with. Hell it didn’t even guarantee that the pair would like each other.

 

But for some it did, and those people got their happily ever afters. Good for them. I wasn’t anti-happiness. I was just anti-mark. Well save for when I was working. Being that the mark was representative of the other person, it didn’t always fit the person it was on. Like now. The woman in front of me was a classic southern belle, with a massive set of horns taking up the entirety of her upper back. Her husband was apparently a rancher. So she came to me. The marked skin took ink, so I was able to tattoo over and around them. It was like a cover up, but only partially.

 

“Maybe,” I said, scribbling her name in and taking the deposit. I handed her the time card and she was off.

 

I settled down in the chair of the reception desk and went back to reading my magazine. I was there solely to work reception that day, so I had done absolutely nothing.

 

My boss Rich was there, tattooing a friend of his. It was the nth session on a massive back piece that he’d started a while back.

 

“When do you think you’re going to meet your mark maker?” he asked, knowing that it was going to wind me up.

 

I took the bait anyways. “Ain’t got no room for a mark,” I said.

 

I had filled up most of my body with tattoos, and was running out of space. If I ever did get a mark, I was probably gonna be pissed. That was valuable real estate any more.

 

The bell above the door chimed. I looked up expecting another person with a cringe worthy mark. Instead, my eyes fell upon Corey Graves, former professional wrestler, current NXT commentator, regular client at the shop and a friend of mine (with a benefit or two).

 

“Look, Trouble’s here,” Rich said.

 

 “Trouble’s at the desk,” Corey said.

 

I let the jab go. I was trouble. I was also very well aware of that fact. “S’up, Graves?”

 

He shrugged. “Nothing, hit the gym, since I didn’t go yesterday.”

 

“Hit the gym, since you weren’t hung over today,” I corrected.

 

“Fuck you.”

 

I laughed.

 

Corey and I hung out a lot. Most of that time was spent at bars.

 

“I’m not the one that started ordering tequila shots.”

 

“Yes, you were.”

 

“I was?”

 

I did not remember shit, save for Corey scaring some asshole off, who kept giving me shit, making out with Corey outside of the bar and then throwing up. The more I thought about it, the more tequila made sense. 

 

“Yes.”

 

“Well it didn’t hit me as hard the next day as it did you.”

 

Corey rolled his eyes.

 

A thought popped into my head. “You’re a piercer right?”

 

He nodded.

 

“If I order the shit will you pierce my lip?” I asked.

 

“If it’s cool with Rich,” he answered.

 

I spun in my chair to look at Rich.

 

“Sure. I don’t give a shit.”

 

I did a little victory jig.

 

“Start of list in your head, go pick me up some food, and, when you get back, I’ll write it down.”

 

“You’re obnoxious.”

 

I grinned.

 

“Bacon cheese burger?” he asked.

 

“Yes, please.”

 

“Rich you want something?”

 

“Same.”

 

“I’ll be back,” he said, leaving the shop.

 

**Three Weeks Later**

“Are you nervous?” Corey asked, as he got everything ready.

 

“No.”

 

“Are you sure about that?” he asked, opening and closing the clamp.

 

I rolled my eyes. “You’d never hurt me.”

 

“You think this isn’t going to hurt?”

 

“Alright, you’d never hurt me more than necessary. Better?”

 

“Better,” he said, chuckling.

 

“You’re such a dick.”

 

“I try.”

 

We gone through all of the prep stuff, and now it was time to actually jam a needle in my lip.

 

“Alright open up,” Corey said, putting on some weird evil dentist persona.

 

“Calm down Isaac Yankem.”

 

Corey pulled my lip down to clamp it and paused, pulling a confused face.

 

“Something wrong?” I asked. It was a bit awkward considering that he still had a hold of my lip.

 

“How long have you had this?” he asked, letting go.

 

“Had what?”

 

He pulled my lip down again and held the mirror up so that I could see.

 

On the center of my bottom lip was a bold black 13 with Unlucky written over it in script.

 

“What the fuck?”  I leaned forward to get a better look at it. “What the actual fuck? Where the hell did that-“

 

“You didn’t get that?” he asked.

 

“No,” I answered.

 

I didn’t have any attachment to the number thirteen, and there was no one that I knew that could put something like that in there. I didn’t think anyone could. Very few people could do something like that at all, let alone so legibly.

 

Corey fell silent for a moment. “Do you think it’s your mark?” he asked.

 

“No!” I cried indignantly. ”No. No. No. The only marks on this body are there, because I put them.” I was getting more and more upset as the situation set in.

 

“Calm down,” he said.

 

“How the fuck am I supposed to calm down? Do you get with this means?” I asked. “Things are gonna change.”

 

“I thought you didn’t believe in that.”

 

“Just because I don’t doesn’t mean that other people won’t. What-“

 

He cut me off. “That’s not true. You didn’t know it was there. You could’ve had it for _years_ , and been none the wiser. Has anything changed in that time?”

 

He knew something.

 

“Corey, do you know how long this has been here?” I asked.

 

He sighed. “I have an idea.”

 

“An idea?”

 

He dipped his head, so that I could see the space behind his ear, a red calla lily that was so dark that it was almost black my favorite flower.

 

“I don’t know when it got there. I never noticed it, until Hunter asked me about it a few months ago. If I had to guess, I probably got it the first time I walked into this shop.”

 

“Wait you-“

 

I was panicking before. It increased tenfold the second I realized what Corey was implying.

 

Corey sighed, setting down the clamp and taking off his gloves. He placed his hands on my shoulders. “Look at me. Look at me.” 

 

I did as he said. “You need to calm down. You’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

 

“But-“

 

“Listen to me. Since when the hell have you ever cared about your mark?”

 

I was silent. I had never cared, not even when I was young.

 

“Answer me.”

 

“Never.”

 

“Then why start now? This friendship and whatever the else has come along with it had nothing to do with our marks. We didn’t know we were marked. Whatever else happens, even if nothing else happens isn’t going to be because of a flower or a number. It’s gonna be because we’re us.”

 

I did feel a lot better, but there was still part of my brain screaming about how everything was going to be fucked.

 

“Earlier, you said that I’d never hurt you?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“You trust me?”

 

“Without a doubt.”

 

“Then trust me. Everything will work out fine.”

 

I felt that last bit of apprehension ease out of my system. I was still confused. For sure. It was going to take a while to process everything and to come to terms to it, but at least for now, I was fine.

 

“It’ll work out,” I repeated.

 

He let out a relieved sigh and gave me a small smile. “Good. Now, do you still want to pierce your lip?”

 

I nodded. 

 

“Then let’s get it done.”

 


End file.
